Sadder things like, y’know, waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to sit opposite the goddess-beautiful Diane Sawyer and Robin Roberts, performing your new pop single “Womanizer” without offending the children with your womanhood, then splitting your birthday cake with a live audience full of puffer coat-laden, middle American, GMA fanatics, all while making a point to defend your sanity/body shape/parenting skills/rollercoaster twenties/mother/baby-bearing baby sister/bad choice in men/love of Cheetos/questionable hygiene/waning music career/existence/basic intelligence/happiness.

“I’m great, y’all! I’m great!”

Shoot. On my birthday, all I want to do is eat well, read happy messages on my facebook wall, receive hugs and presents, force my friends to make speeches about their respective sibling rivalries, and drink lots of Patrón.